Room
by dracoismyboyfriendguys
Summary: Held captive for four and a half years, Shelby Corcoran is determined to fight to get her and her daughter back to the life she once knew. A reworking of the novel/film 'Room'.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N- I got an idea to take the story of 'Room' and rework it as a Shelby/Rachel story... so here it is! I'm sorry for typos and if the writing is particularly shit. It's almost 4am. Enjoy!**_

* * *

With their regionals competition right around the corner and only half a set-list prepared, Shelby Corcoran was feeling the mounting pressure. Sure, as everyone liked to remind her, she wasn't the coach of the team therefore it wasn't _really_ her responsibility. But she couldn't help it.

It was her senior year and the last chance she'd have to drag the lacklustre bunch of kids who acted as her back-up vocalists along with her to New York City for the national show choir finals. It was also her final opportunity to add such an accolade to her resumé before she left for the city for good. With or without that title, she knew she was destined to be a star. But it wouldn't _hurt _to have it under her belt.

"Guys, _please. _Let's just run-through what we've got one more time so that tomorrow we can focus on deciding details of the duet," she said, placing her hands on her hips. She stood at the front of the choir room, facing her unenthused teammates who were displaying expressions of varying levels of boredom and annoyance.

"What? The duet that you've already decided you and lover-boy will do?" snapped Alexis from the front row. It was her out of everyone who was most engaged by Shelby's words, but seemingly only to the extent that she could try to drag the girl down.

"Not necessarily," Shelby replied coldly, fixing her with a steely stare. The two had been rivals ever since Shelby could remember. Both had partaken in the same baby ballet classes- primarily so their mothers could dress them up in tutus- then the same elementary school choir, and finally they found themselves head-to-head in high school glee club. "Why, do you have some ideas you'd like to put forward?"

Alexis shrugged, still scowling. "Not really. It's not like you'd listen to them anyway."

Shelby rolled her eyes and felt her fingers involuntarily clenching against her hip bones. "I mean, that's _literally_ what I'm trying to do now, but if you'd rather just be a bitch about it, then by all means go right ahead!"

As Alexis jumped to her feet, eyes blazing, ready to retaliate, their choir director, Mr. Marshall, decided that now was the opportune time to step in. "Shelby Corcoran, that's quite enough!"

Shelby spun round, her mouth gaping open. The injustice was ridiculous! "What? But, Mr Marshall," she whined, "I was only trying to help!"

"Yeah, by being a controlling little bi-."

_Slap_.

No one in the room would have been able to say quite how it happened, but somehow Shelby had moved from her position by the piano in a matter of seconds and brought the palm of her hand sharply down on Alexis's cheek.

For a short moment, it was completely silent in the choir room as everyone tried to wrap their heads around what had just happened. Then chaos reigned.

Shelby felt herself being shoved backwards as Alexis rounded on her. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, psycho?"

A few boys sat on the furthest seats had broken out into a ringing chorus of 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'. Some of the girls were laughing, while a couple of others began to shriek as if they were the ones who had been slapped.

"You're nothing but a lazy, deluded piece of shit, Alexis!" Shelby snapped back.

She managed to grab a hold of Alexis's dark brown ponytail and used this to try to rip the girl away from her. Not one to ever be outdone that easily by Shelby Corcoran, Alexis retaliated by snatching at the lapels of the girl's denim jacket and swinging her round until they both came crashing down into the music stands. When Alexis's head smacked against the sharp metal, Shelby used her momentary distraction to pin her to the ground.

She was about to deliver another almighty smack when she suddenly felt strong hands wrap around her thin waist, lifting her from the ground. She continued thrashing, her arms and legs swinging wildly until she was placed firmly back onto her feet.

"Let's go, Shel," a boy's voice whispered softly but firmly into her ear. She turned to see her boyfriend, Will, looking at her with a mixture of concern and disappointment etched onto his features. He quickly took her still shaking hand into his and began to lead her from the choir room.

"Yeah, get that fucking nutso out of here before I _kill_ her," Alexis screamed, still sitting among the music stands on the floor. "Someone seriously needs to lock her up."

Shelby kept her head held high as Will pulled her out of the room and into the deserted hallway. It had been three hours since the school day had ended and, being a Friday, no other extracurriculars were running. It was only once they were away from the door of the room, through which Shelby could still hear Alexis moaning about how she was going to have a bruise on her cheek, that she dropped Will's hand and leaned back on the lockers.

She smacked her head back against them several times as a low groan left her lips. "Well, I really fucked that one up, didn't I?" she smirked after a few seconds. She stole a glance up at Will, whose frown immediately dissipated into a matching sly grin.

"You can say that again," he told her wryly. He moved to stand in front of her, pushing back some of her long, dark hair from across her forehead. With a lick of his thumb, he began to rub away some of the blood congealing there from a cut Shelby hadn't even registered yet. "You okay?"

She nodded, batting his worrying hands away. "I think what hurts the most is my bruised ego." She readjusted her now rumpled jacket and frizzed her hair back up the way she liked it. "She can try to knock me out all she likes but she'll never knock the talent out of me."

Will snorted before stooping down to press a kiss against her flushed cheek. "That's my girl," he murmured.

"I was only trying to help," she told him with a pout.

"I know, baby. They just don't get it, they're not as passionate as you are."

"I'm beginning to think that passion isn't enough."

"Hey," Will said quickly, tilting her chin up with his fingers so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Don't say that. You're going to do amazing things- I can feel it."

A small smile danced across her lips. "_We're_ going to do amazing things." She moved in to embrace him, revelling in the feeling of his strong arms around her.

Just as they were both leaning in for a kiss, Mr Marshall burst out from the choir room.

"That was completely unacceptable behaviour!" he told Shelby sharply.

She knew this was coming. The man would never dare to intervene in a fight, but as soon as it was over he was more than happy to diligently do the rounds of lecturing. Still, Shelby supposed that this was probably to be expected given the circumstances.

"I know," she said, slipping out from between the locker and Will, and raising her hands in surrender. She would let him think he was in control. For now. "I freaked. I'm sorry."

Mr Marshall crossed his wiry arms over his chest and shot the girl a look of total disdain. Shelby had to think that the main reason for his dislike of her was probably only because they both knew that she did a better job of running the show choir than him. Hell, there was _no_ way they would have won sectionals if it weren't for her literally dragging them all into the auditorium everyday after school for two weeks. She had picked the songs. She had choreographed the numbers. She had even phoned the bus company to get them there. Her parents hadn't been best pleased about the bill they'd received for that, but she assured them that it was all for the good of the team, and therefore for her future career. They'd simply asked her whether she'd reconsidered applying for pre-med programmes yet.

"You're banned from the rest of rehearsal," he snapped. "_Obviously_."

Shelby bit back a groan and forced her chin back up. "That's understandable, Mr Marshall," she said, in as polite a tone as she could muster. "Have a nice weekend."

Seemingly missing that the girl he was trying to scold had just dismissed him, Mr Marshall turned and stormed back into the room.

Will grabbed his girlfriend's hand again. "Come on, let's go."

"Uh- absolutely not," she said quickly, retracting it and placing it on her hip once more. "You have to go back in there and get them singing!"

"They're never going to listen to me!" he whined. "Besides, I'm your ride home."

Shelby just shrugged. "I'll walk," she told him decisively. When he still looked reluctant, she arched an eyebrow. "Come on! You have to do this for me."

Will hesitated, but he knew better than to argue with her when she had that scary look on her face. "Fine," he relented. "But only because I love you so much."

She grinned and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "I love you too, baby. Come over on Sunday evening to work on the duet?"

"Sunday evening?"

"My parents are out of town," she said waving her hand. When he went to suggest that they could do something earlier, maybe something more fun than simply rehearsing, she quickly cut him off. "I have work all day tomorrow and then dance on Sunday morning."

"Fine," he said again, somewhat dejectedly.

She gave him a coy grin and leaned to whisper in his ear. "But if you get a lot done now, I promise I'll make it worth your while come Sunday." A sudden rush of heat through him made him unable to speak, so he just nodded with a grin. "Perfect. Bye, baby." She patted his chest, smirking, and turned to stride down the hallway.

That way one way to guarantee a lot got done in her absence.

Halfway through her walk home, she was beginning to regret not just waiting around for Will and letting him drive her home. The February evening was dark and cold, but her fast pace had caused her to break a sweat. She tied her denim jacket around her waist, leaving her in just the thin graphic t-shirt she'd got at a Ramones concert as she began the ascent up the long hill which led to her neighbourhood.

With every step in her painfully rubbing converse, she cursed everyone who had wronged her. Fucking Alexis and her stupid obsession on their ongoing feud. Stupid Mr Marshall who couldn't ever admit that she was in the right. Her asshole parents who _hated_ the fact that she was so devoted to the performing arts, but who had no problem flying halfway across the country to watch her bitchy sister's college debate team compete.

She was halfway up the hill when she decided to take a break. Leaning against a streetlight, she reached into her bag and retrieved a packet of cigarettes and her lighter. Everyone she knew hated the habit, _she_ hated the habit, but there she was. And God knows after the day she'd had, she deserved it.

As she took a deep drag, she reached again into her bag for her walkman. She'd dropped the device enough times to make the battery-life almost non-existent, but she figured she might have just enough left for the rest of her walk home. Pressing play, she let the sound of Queen fill her ears and continued to puff on the cigarette.

Just when she was thinking it was probably time to start walking again, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Whirling round and wielding the smouldering cigarette as some kind of weapon, she came face-to-face with a dark-haired man who looked to be in his mid-thirties.

"Woah, easy tiger," he said, chuckling at her defensive stance. "Was just gonna ask whether you had a light?"

Shelby felt a small blush rise on her cheeks. She yanked her headphones out and reached back into her bag, retrieving the lighter once more. "Sorry- here," she said, clipping it down for him and watching the flame jump to life. The man leant forward, his own cigarette now perched between his lips, and sucked in until it was lit. The blaring of Shelby's loud music was just about audible over the crackling of the flame.

"Queen?" he asked, blowing out a long stream of smoke.

"Good ear," Shelby quipped. "They're one of my favourites."

The man cocked his head and gave her a small smile. "Mine too," he said. "What's your favourite album?"

"Maybe not the most unique of answers, but probably 'A Night at the Opera'," she replied after thinking it over for a second. "I think Freddie was at his peak then."

"Good orchestration too," the man noted, his brown eyes gleaming with appreciation.

"You into music, then?" Shelby asked, sucking out the last dregs of her cigarette.

"Into it?" he scoffed slightly. "I'm a producer. I'm just visiting from New York for a while."

Shelby's eyes immediately widened. "You're from New York?"

"Yeah. You like it there?"

She shrugged as she reached into her bag to extract another cigarette. She needed an excuse to keep this conversation going. "I've never actually been, but I'm going to move there once I've graduated. Do music, Broadway, maybe some movies."

The man chuckled. "Big ambitions."

"I'll make it," Shelby told him easily. She had to believe it, because very few other people in her life seemed to.

"I don't doubt it," he replied with a warm smile. He hesitated for a second before adding, "Look, don't think I'm being weird or something, but I could give you my card if you like. And then you look me up once you get to the city?"

Shelby's mouth gaped open, and then broke out into a wide grin. "Seriously?"

"Sure- I'm always looking for new talent, and there's something special about you."

It was words like that that Shelby had been waiting her whole life to hear. "That would be amazing, thank you!"

He shrugged casually. "No problem. My car's just over there," he said, pointing a little ways up the road. "I'll grab you a card and maybe a tape of the stuff I've been working on recently."

Shelby couldn't do anything but nod and smile. This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for.

The man turned, and moved towards the blue van, flinging his cigarette to the ground. Shelby had to jog slightly to keep up with his long strides. She quickly took one final and drag and followed closely behind him as they approached the vehicle. He opened the sliding door and stood back a little, beckoning her up next to him.

"The tapes are just there," he said, pointing towards a cardboard box, while he himself began to reach into the door pocket, presumably to find his cards.

Shelby put one foot up inside the van as she leaned towards the box. "Here?" she checked, when she couldn't spot the tapes in the van's dark interior.

"That's right, Shelby. Right there," his voice called back to her.

"What?" she cried, as she attempted to spin around.

But she never got her answer, because her world suddenly went black.

_Four and a half years later_

Shelby's eyes began to groggily flicker open at the feeling of something sticky tapping against her face.

"Mommy?" a little voice said.

She tried to roll over in the lumpy bed, shutting her eyes again. It wasn't to be, however, when she suddenly felt her eyelids being pried apart by tiny little fingers. Without welcome, her vision was suddenly filled by big brown eyes looking intently up at her.

"Jesus Christ," she cried out, suddenly sitting bolt upright in bed and throwing a hand against her chest in a vain attempt to soothe her pounding heart.

"Mommy?" The little girl's face was full of concern and her bottom lip trembled as she took in her mother's shocked appearance. "I sorry."

Shelby took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes quickly. As her world gradually became less bleary, she finally located herself and reached out to soothe her now sniffling daughter.

"Hey, no tears, baby," she cooed. She lifted the girl up under the armpits and onto the bed with her, holding her tight against her chest. "I'm sorry for shouting, Rach. You just scared Mommy."

That made Rachel's bottom lip quiver even more fiercely and tears spilled down from her brown eyes. _Way to go, Shelby._ She pulled the girl in tighter and began to rock her slightly. _You can do this_, she told herself firmly. _It's just one more day of being strong for Rachel. Today's going to be the day._

It was the mantra she'd started the day she found out she was pregnant. Or rather, restarted. She'd done something similar every day for the first few months. And then she'd given up, resigning herself to whatever shitty fate she was clearly determined to live out.

But the morning she'd finally put together the pieces of her sickness, her slight weight gain, and her missing periods, a fire had been kindled inside her. She couldn't just give up anymore because now she wasn't only fighting for herself, but for her baby too.

"I sorry," Rachel said again tearfully. Her tiny fingers wrapped round the edges of Shelby's Ramones t-shirt as she buried herself into her mother.

"_I'm_ sorry," Shelby corrected absent-mindedly, her hands rubbing soothing patterns on Rachel's little back.

Rachel's head shot up from its position on her mother's chest. "Why you sorry, Mommy?" she asked, eyes wide with concern.

Shelby furrowed her brow. "What? Oh- I was just- never mind." She waited for a couple of minutes for Rachel to calm herself down and then held her back a little so she could look at her. "What's wrong, Rachel? Why did you need to wake Mommy up?"

It wasn't one of their established rules- well, the few rules Shelby _could_ establish within their confines- but it went without saying that Rachel shouldn't try to wake her mother up until she was ready. Particularly on the mornings following nights where Shelby had been visited. She was never in the mood to get up early then, or at all.

"I hafta go potty, Mommy," Rachel said seriously. Shelby had to refrain from groaning. _This_ was why she'd had her eyes pried open like she was in 'A Clockwork Orange'?

"Well, you know where the toilet is, Rach," she said, gesturing to the toilet which sat a few feet away from their bed. It hadn't moved overnight. Or for the past four years.

Rachel glanced over at the toilet and then back at her mom. "I need help," she whispered.

Shelby rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. _It's not Rachel's fault_, she reminded herself quickly. "You can go by yourself. Like we practiced, yeah?" She began to lift the little girl off of her so she could roll back over and bury down again under the covers. There was still a dull ache in her lower abdomen from last night and all she wanted to do was try and sleep it off.

Rachel, however, had other ideas and she thrashed her little limbs around, squirming to not be dumped on the floor. "Please, Mommy," she whimpered. "I hafta poop. I need help."

Resigning herself, Shelby sighed and climbed out from the bed, scooping Rachel up as she went. She silently wished she'd put up more of a fight to keep the girl in diapers for a little longer. As horrific as that was to deal with when she had absolutely nowhere to put them besides the single small metal trash can, it meant that she could sleep for longer. But she hadn't really had much choice in the matter. Rachel had developed asthma six months ago, and she'd been told she couldn't have both diapers and the girl's inhaler.

She placed Rachel down in front of the toilet and watched as the little girl slid down her pyjama bottoms before wiggling up onto the seat. While she did her business, Shelby cast a glance around the room. It was beginning to dimly glow in the early morning light coming in through the overhead window, and everything seemed to have a slight silver tinge to it: the boxy TV, the small fridge, the slatted table, the stained sheets on the bed. It was all the same as it had been every other morning. Shelby sighed, though she wasn't expecting anything different.

_But that's going to change_, she told herself as Rachel called for her to help wipe. _Today will be the day and then everything will be okay._

Once she was done, and they'd both washed their hands in the sink, she gathered Rachel back into her arms and planted a big kiss on the top of her brown hair. She laid them back down on the bed.

Something had to change.

* * *

_**A/N- I know what you're thinking. Can't this girl just focus on one story at a time? Doesn't she have a life? The answer to both is no. I'm on break from uni right now and it's either this or write essays... I'm not sure when I'll be updating this, because Regrettably is my child right now and I have so much I want to do with her, but I do have ideas for this too!**_

_**Anyway, I just got a burst of inspo for this story and wanted to try it out! Would love to know what you thought! If you're familiar with 'Room', you'll know that there's breastfeeding in it- is that something people want me to either cut out or keep in? Or do you not care? Any reviews welcome and appreciated. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Mother and daughter were having a silent stand-off across the small slatted table.

Rachel had begun to get antsy lying in the bed. She squirmed from side to side and after 'accidentally' hitting her mother in the head with a flailing hand, Shelby realised neither of them were going to get anymore sleep. It was time to start another day. She sent Rachel off to play with her tattered stuffed rabbit and began to rearrange the furniture. It was something she'd started when Rachel began to walk, so that the girl would have as much variety as possible. Like a well oiled machine, Shelby pulled the table the short distance across to the bed and used one of the pillows to make a booster seat for her daughter atop the covers. She then dragged the chair over and tucked it carefully in. It was missing a slat in the middle, so she didn't like to let Rachel sit on it. The three-year-old was gradually getting bigger, but Shelby still didn't trust that her skinny frame wouldn't just fall through the gap in the seat.

The top shelf of the wardrobe served as Shelby's pantry. Well out of reach from small wandering hands, she arranged whatever food supplies they had and her collection of plastic utensils: cutlery, bowl, plate and mug. Rachel's inhaler was also tucked away there. At this moment, things were scarce. An almost empty box of cereal stood beside two tins of soup; she could only hope that he would bring food soon. She extracted the cereal, bowl and plate and carefully measured two small handfuls of the stuff onto each before setting them at each place on the table. She'd then called Rachel over to the sink and cupped handfuls of icy water for the girl to drink.

She never let Rachel use the cup. Not since _he_ had thought it would be funny to finish inside of it once when she'd accidentally left it out. No matter how many times she washed it out, using much of their precious soap on the item, she had vowed to never let her baby's mouth go anywhere near it. Rachel didn't seem to mind lapping up the water from her mother's fingers whenever she was thirsty anyway. That, or she couldn't remember any different.

But now she was frowning down at the small bowl of cereal with a scowl that looked much too deep for her little face. Shelby was at her wit's end.

"Eat your breakfast, Rachel," she said tersely. She put another piece of dry cereal into her own mouth as if to demonstrate and chewed slowly.

Rachel shook her head wildly from side to side, her long, dark hair flapping about her face. "No!"

Shelby sighed, she simply didn't have the energy for this. "Eat. Now."

"No!" Rachel shouted again, banging a small fist on the table. The off-brand cheerios in her bowl jumped at the sudden blow. Shelby just glared at her and continued to pick at her own plate. Sensing that her mother wasn't giving her enough of a reaction, Rachel banged her fist again. "Not eating!"

Shelby didn't say anything.

"I not eating!" Rachel declared. She folded her arms across her chest and twisted at the waist so she was facing as far away from her mother and the offending cereal as she could.

"Face the table please, Rachel," Shelby said in as calm a voice she could muster. Her head was pounding, her body throbbing. There were only four pieces of cereal left on her own plate and her stomach was still painfully empty.

Rachel shook her head again without looking back. "I not eating!"

Scooping up the last of her cereal, Shelby chewed quickly and then leant back, eyeing her petulant daughter. The chair's hole pressed uncomfortably against her tender pubic area and she hissed as she hastily readjusted herself.

That caught Rachel's attention. "Mommy?" she asked. Her head turned back towards the table, but her body was still grumpily pointed away. Concern filled her wide eyes as she took in her mother's pained expression over her shoulder. "You 'kay?"

"Mhm," Shelby said quickly, biting down on her lip hard to stop herself crying out again. The shooting pain subsided slightly when she crossed her legs tightly together. She hadn't felt right down there since Rachel's birth, and she was sure that if she had delivered the baby anywhere except the bathtub just across from where she was sitting now, she would have probably had several stitches. It wasn't usually this bad, though. But she'd angered _him_ last night, and now she was facing the consequences.

"You hurt?" Rachel's timid voice asked. She was facing the table again now.

"No, baby, I'm okay," Shelby quickly assured her with a small smile. "But it would make Mommy feel a lot better if you could eat your breakfast for me."

Being stuck in a tiny room with a stubborn toddler, blackmail- emotional or otherwise- was her strongest parenting tool. A fact she didn't like to think about very much.

Rachel peered down at the bowl with pure disgust. "Don't like it," she mumbled. She picked up one of the small brown hoops and held it up to Shelby as if to show her quite how revolting it was. Her mother didn't need the reminder, she'd been eating this almost everyday for the last four years.

"Really?" Shelby asked with a look of exaggerated surprise on her face. "Well, it's Mommy's _absolute_ favourite." She leant across the small table and opened her mouth so Rachel could deposit the small piece of cereal inside it. While she chewed, she plastered a large grin on her face that never met her tired eyes. "Yum yum yum!" she smiled, smacking her lips together.

Rachel giggled softly at her mother, and turned back to the bowl with a more sympathetic expression. _Bingo_, Shelby thought. Rachel idolised her in every way so maybe now she had seen how much her mother _loved_ the cereal, she would also give it a go.

The moment of judgment arose when Rachel finally lifted a small piece of cereal and inspected it carefully.

"We have milk?" she asked, looking up at Shelby hopefully.

"Not today, baby." They'd finished the last small bottle with breakfast several days ago, but Rachel couldn't really remember that.

"Oh." Her small fingers finally brought the piece up to her lips and she nibbled softly. "I have your milk?"

Shelby sighed. She wanted to start weaning Rachel off her breastmilk soon, but she knew that she couldn't while there was still barely enough real food to go around. Besides, she figured that her daughter would miss the comfort of it. She would too.

She nodded once, before fixing Rachel with a serious look. "You can once you finish your breakfast."

Rachel smiled, content with this answer and began to pick at the cereal. Shelby let out a long breath and stretched her head back. She should have just tried that approach in the first place. Soon, it was like the argument had never happened and the little girl started to chatter loudly about something her stuffed lamb had told her earlier that morning while she slowly but steadily ate. Shelby nodded blankly, interjecting 'wows' and 'really?'s whenever Rachel paused.

Finally, the girl pushed her empty bowl towards her both with a proud grin. "I all done!"

Shelby forced one onto her own face. The effort strained at every muscle. "Good job, Rach."

She cupped Rachel's cheek tenderly and then stood up to clean up for them. The first battle of the day was over, but she was already wracked with exhaustion. She rinsed the bowl and the plate under the cold tap, reset the table and chair to their positions by the wall and then scooped Rachel up, carrying her on her hip to the bed.

She leant up against the broken bed-frame and settled Rachel quickly on her lap. The wooden headboard had a snapped beam in it that Shelby had never bothered to try to fix. She liked it. It was a reminder of a time she had fought back.

She'd only been in the room for a few weeks at that point, still screaming desperately everyday until her throat was raw and her body shook uncontrollably from exertion and malnutrition. Once, _he'd_ come in unexpectedly and caught her balancing on the chair, which was in turn on top of the table, banging at the skylight with the toilet lid. He had decided enough was enough. He kicked her several times in the stomach. _Hard. _Then he'd left. When he returned later that night, he brought along a packet of thick rope which he used to tie her up against the bed frame. Shelby had been too tired and in too much pain to put up much of a fight.

For four empty days, and four painful nights, she merely lay there, staring blankly ahead like she was already a corpse. When he finished with her on the fourth night, he leered down at her for a few minutes. She just kept staring, unseeing, at the wall before her. Then he had slapped her cheek and her naked breasts, punched at her arms and stomach. When she still didn't react, he had chuckled softly. "_Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Shelby. I do hope you'll be seeing me too._" As the door slammed shut behind him, a sudden wave of strength engulfed her body. He could imprison her, rape her, tie her up, but he sure as hell wasn't going to just leave her to die. If he wanted to kill her, he was going to have to man up and do it himself.

As if her thinning limbs were suddenly made of burning steel, she she wrenched her arm away from the bed as hard as she could. The rope slashed into her wrists and the cheap wood finally splintered apart. She then untied her other arm and ran, sobbing, into the wardrobe where she collapsed onto the floor.

He found her there when he returned the next night, hunched over and massaging her torn skin. She thought that maybe this would end it all. That she'd finally made him angry enough to just wrap his hands around her throat and be done with it. She was wrong. Instead, he had simply laughed maniacally, pulled her to her feet, and thrown her weakened body back onto the bed. That time had hurt more than any of the times before. When he was done and she was curled away from him with her knees up to her chest, he made her promise over and over that she wouldn't try anything like the window trick again.

_"I think you've learned your lesson now, bitch. Don't you?"_

Shelby had just nodded and continued to cry.

It was ironic, really, that in her fight to survive, something inside her had died. There were times after this occasion when she'd wished that she'd stayed tied up against the bed frame and let it hold her while her life slowly ended. It was then that she gave up her morning mantra. She didn't have a hope in hell of escape or salvation. She was just a body to be used and discarded.

And that was her life until a few months later when she realised Rachel was on her way.

Finding a position where the jagged wood wasn't sticking into her back, she allowed Rachel to pull up the edge of her shirt and quickly latch on. She ran her fingers softly through her little girl's hair as she dropped small kisses into it. Rachel's eyes met hers, fluttering slightly with her repetitive suckling, and Shelby felt her heart melt. It didn't matter that she had _his_ eyes. Because while his were filled with hate and evil, her baby's were so innocent and loving. They were her salvation and they brought her back to life.

That's why she liked the broken bed-frame so much. If she hadn't pulled away from it, she wouldn't have the baby who was then beginning to grow in her stomach. Maybe it was Rachel who had given her the strength that day, who forced her to go on living, just like she had continued to do everyday since.

Rachel pulled her lips away and reached up to tap on Shelby's cheek, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Yes, baby?"

"You sing now, mommy," she said. Her voice was soft, but Shelby chuckled at the realisation that it wasn't a request, but an order.

"Yes, ma'am." Once Rachel was settled back around her breast, she cleared her throat. It was sore from the way he'd used it last night, but she wasn't going to let that stop her from offering comfort to her daughter. "_Somewhere over the rainbow_…" It was one of Rachel's favourite lullabies. She liked the lilting rhythm and the way her mother's voice carried the high notes softly. Shelby liked it too; she used it to convey all her longing for the outside world that she had to believe was waiting for both of them.

When she was finished, she lifted Rachel and carried her across to the bathtub. Without needing to be told, the little girl quickly undressed while Shelby began to run the water, hoping it would warm up a little. She opened the wardrobe again while they waited, and pulled out the small pile of dirty clothes before undressing herself. Plugging the tub and letting it fill a few inches with the lukewarm water, she threw the clothes in and then placed Rachel in right next to them. Making sure to grab the bar of soap, she lowered herself in as well.

Rachel splashed about for a couple of minutes, lifting a pair of Shelby's leggings and then dropping them again, giggling as they thwacked back down on the water. She did this a few times while Shelby quickly washed herself. She ran the soap in a thin layer all over her battered body and then used some of the bubbles to massage her scalp. It didn't do much to help the greasiness of her dark hair, which was so long now that it flowed all the way down to her waist, but it did make her at least _feel_ a bit cleaner. She cringed a little when she noticed some blood leaking out from her lower half, and quickly tried to distract Rachel with washing the clothes.

When Rachel realised what they were doing, she cleared her throat and began to sing loudly.

"_Let's do laundry, let's do laundry." _

Shelby smiled at the familiar tune. It was a little song she'd made up to the tune of _Frère Jaques_ when Rachel was just a tiny baby: an attempt to soothe the girl while she washed them and their clothes. It had stuck and was now a firm part of their daily routine.

"_Let's wash up, let's wash up_." She joined in with her daughter who grinned and took the shirt Shelby was handing to her, dipping it in and out of the water to get the suds out.

"_Got to get all clean now, got to get all clean now. I love you, I love you." _

They sang it through a few more times, until all of the clothes were hanging along the side of the tub to dry. Shelby quickly washed Rachel, taking more care when trying to clean her daughter's long hair.

"Under to rinse," she instructed and Rachel obliged, taking a deep breath before lying back into the water so Shelby could get rid of the soap. Her little face didn't even go under the shallow water, but she kept her cheeks puffed out as her mother's fingers worked quickly to make sure she was all clean.

When she was all done, Shelby pulled Rachel back against her chest, and laid back for a few minutes. She pressed her cheek up against Rachel's head and wrapped her arms tightly around the girl's skinny frame. For a second, they were safe in their wet cocoon; she was just a mother holding her baby. They lay like that until Shelby felt Rachel begin to shiver, goosebumps forming on the surface of her damp skin.

"Up we go," she said, and Rachel reluctantly crawled off her. She kept a tight hold on her mother's hand as she stepped out of the tub so that she wouldn't slip- they had both learned that lesson the hard way. As Shelby got out herself, she reached across to the bed and pulled the thin towel lying there around both her and Rachel. She got down on her knees and began to dry Rachel off. "Quick, quick, quick," she said and Rachel jumped up and down in the towel trying to brush the water droplets off her arms and legs.

"We gots to be quick, Mommy. Or else the flu monster comes!" she told Shelby with a serious expression.

"That's right, baby," Shelby confirmed. She rubbed Rachel down one last time and when she seemed dry enough, quickly stepped up with the towel around herself. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out some underwear, a pair of blue sweatpants and a black sweater for Rachel. She laid them on the bed for the girl and started to help her into them.

"Thank-you, Mommy," Rachel said, putting her arms up in the air so Shelby could slip the sweater on for her. When her head popped out through the whole, she glanced over to the closet. "And thank-you, Wardrobe, for keepin' my clothes safe."

Shelby's mouth curved into a small smile but her eyes were sad as she gazed down at her little girl. She loved more than anything that Rachel was so sensitive and so imaginative that she spoke to the items of furniture in the room as if they were her friends. However, it tore at her heart that her kid had to do that. That she didn't have anyone else in the world to speak to besides her mom and their run-down furniture.

Rachel pulled her own pants up and waved her hand to catch her mother's attention.

"Mommy!"

"Mm?" Shelby replied quickly, blinking away her thoughts.

"Now you hafta say 'you're welcome'!" Rachel said indignantly. She wagged a finger at her mother, like she'd had done to her many times in the past. "It's the po-lite thing to do!"

"You're welcome, Rachie," she said with a small smile, leaning down and kissing the top of her daughter's wet hair. "And thank _you_ for being so polite."

"You're welcomed, Mommy!"

Once Shelby had also got herself dressed, she sat on the edge of the bed, while Rachel kneeled on the floor in front of her so Shelby could braid her hair.

"Mommy?" she called, her voice muffled slightly by the thumb that was in her mouth. It was a habit that Shelby was trying desperately to break, but she wasn't having much luck.

"Thumb, Rach," she warned and Rachel gave a little huff as she popped it out of her mouth. "Thank you. What's up, baby?"

"What we gonna do t'day?" Rachel asked.

"Tilt back, babe," Shelby said, guiding her head backwards so she could braid the top more easily without hurting Rachel's scalp. "Well, we've got a busy day!"

It was a lie. Obviously. Their days were never busy, but she hoped that maybe they sometimes appeared that way to Rachel. She'd never known anything different. Shelby knew she was saying this to stall Rachel for a moment. She had no idea what they were going to do. Back before Rachel had been born, she used to lie in the bed all day, her mind and body both slowly being reduced to mush. She would occasionally watch the television, but the crappy reception and incessant reminders of the life she had had stolen from her were too much. Then when she had a newborn, there was always something to do, and she spent a lot more time sleeping whenever Rachel did.

_He _didn't come as much when Rachel was a tiny baby. He said he couldn't stand the screaming, which Shelby thought was horribly ironic but she didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. His visits had begun to increase again when Rachel was about eighteen months old. Now, they were back to being almost nightly.

Shelby felt that she was more tired these days than when Rachel was an infant, when she wasn't even sleeping through the night. And when Shelby _did_ sleep, she remained tense and fearful all night long. The next morning she never actually had any energy. Everyday came and went in a blur of Rachel and numbness. In the days, she looked after Rachel, protected Rachel and tried to keep Rachel happy. In the nights, she took whatever was dealt to her with a trained impassivity, staying as quiet as possible so as to continue keeping Rachel safe.

As Rachel developed into a little person, an excitable but stubborn little person, keeping her happy and looked-after was proving more and more difficult. There was only so much Shelby could do with her in the tiny room, and Rachel, with her bright and brilliant mind, was always yearning for something new and fun.

"We gonna be busy?" Rachel asked happily. She squirmed from side-to-side, doing a little dance to show her excitement, until Shelby laid a warning hand on her shoulder so she could finish her braids off.

"Yep," she told her. "First we're gonna do the counting!"

Rachel squealed and clapped her hands together. Shelby heaved a little sigh of relief; that was exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for. She knew that Rachel usually _loved_ the counting, but sometimes her kid was unpredictable. Exhibit A: breakfast that morning. Shelby would bet anything that, come tomorrow morning, Rachel would be asking for seconds of cereal and proclaiming that it was best thing she'd ever eaten.

Shelby finished up the braids, tying them off with rubber bands that had once been to attach labels to the clothes _he_ had bought for Rachel. She assumed it was probably some local thrift-store thing, but she didn't like to give it too much thought. Just the very notion that he was walking around picking out things for her kid to wear was too much to bear sometimes. It made her sick to her stomach, and the only way she could begin to deal with it was just to try to push it down and forget about it.

She placed her hands under Rachel's armpits and helped the little girl to her feet. Rachel giddily spun round, a huge smile on her face.

"We count now, Mommy?"

Shelby nodded and looked around the room for inspiration that didn't come to her. She would just have to figure it out as she went. "Let's start off with something _easy-peasy_," she said, tapping her finger against her chin in a way that she knew made Rachel giggle. "Can you please count how many pillows there are on the bed for me?"

Rachel nodded and jumped up onto the bed. She crawled across Shelby, her knee landing hard in her mother's stomach, who let out a sharp 'oomph'. "Oops, I sorry, Mommy."

Shelby just turned and tapped Rachel's little bottom as it wiggled past her. "That's okay, Rachie," she smirked. Rachel turned and stuck her tongue out, before continuing on her little mission to count the pillows.

She reached the end of the bed and steadied herself on all-fours before grasping the first pillow tightly. "Here's _one_ pillow, Mommy!" she said, waving it above her head for Shelby to see.

"Mhm," Shelby said.

Rachel put the first pillow down behind her, and reached for the other one. "And here's 'nother one!"

Shelby nodded and gave an encouraging smile. "So how many pillows does that make, Rach?"

"One and 'nother one is two, Mommy. Bed has two pillows," Rachel said confidently. And then just to prove herself right, she pointed at each pillow with a little finger. "One and two!"

"Good job, baby!" Shelby said, holding out her hand to the girl. "High five!"

Rachel looked down at her hand for a second before she guided it to meet her mother's with a small clap. "Did it, Mommy!"

"I know. Ready for another one?"

Rachel nodded eagerly, jumping down off the bed and running the short distance round its side so she was standing back in front of her mother. "I always ready!"

Shelby smiled. "I know you are, my special girl." Her eyes fell on the TV behind Rachel's shoulders. That seemed as good as anything. "Okay, Rach, can you please count how many buttons there are on the front of the TV?"

"Uh huh, Mommy!" she cried as she turned and padded over to the television. Her finger ran along the box as she counted. "One and two and three and four." She did it a couple more times just to make sure she had counted right. "TV have four buttons!"

"The TV _has_ four buttons, Rachel," Shelby corrected, before smiling as brightly as she could. "Well done, baby!"

And so on they went, until Shelby had officially run out of things to have her baby girl count for her. Still, she thought it had been a good game. Rachel got a little stuck when they got into the teens, but she'd stuttered her way through it with Shelby's help. And her twenties had been perfect.

They took a break for lunch; Shelby heated half a tin of soup on the small stove and then split it between the plastic bowl for Rachel and the mug for herself. Thankfully, Rachel didn't put up as much of a fuss with her lunch as she had for breakfast.

Shelby tried and failed to stifle a yawn as she watched Rachel painstakingly scraping at the last streaks of soup with the plastic spoon. If she had more energy, she might have snapped at the girl to just put the stupid spoon down and be done with it. But she didn't. And she couldn't blame Rachel, she was still hungry too.

Eventually deciding there was no more soup to be found, Rachel looked up at her mother with a small pout. "Mommy," she began to whine.

Shelby didn't need to let her finish to know what she was going to ask for. She held out her hand to the little girl. "Come on, Rach. Let's choose a story to read while you have some milk."

Rachel, of course, picked out 'The Wonderful Wizard of Oz'. It was her favourite, and Shelby was sure she must have read it several hundred times by now. _He_ had handed it to her when Rachel was six months old with a smirk. "_Thought you and the kiddo might like this. I know how you used to love your musicals, bitch._" But she couldn't think about that. Instead she had to focus on the way Rachel's face lit up whenever she heard her mommy doing the silly voices for the different characters.

Shelby got them settled on the bed, and as soon as Rachel had latched on, she began to read, hoping that between the milk filling her belly, and her mother's soothing voice, she would soon be fast asleep. God knows Shelby needed the nap probably more than the toddler did, if only to take a temporary break from existence.

"'_Suddenly Uncle Henry stood up. "There's a cyclone coming, Em," he called to his wife. "I'll go look after the stock.'_"

After a few minutes, Shelby bit back a groan at the sight of her daughter's excited eyes still hanging onto her every word. Her plan had failed. She pushed some of Rachel's loose strands of hair out of her eyes softly.

"Shut your eyes, baby. Let's try to take a nap."

Rachel sat up quickly, detaching from her mother with a pop. "I a big girl!" she proclaimed loudly. "No naps!"

"Well, Rach, I'm a big girl too and I'd like a nap," Shelby said, fixing her shirt and trying to stave off the desperation which crept into her voice. She knew it would only antagonise Rachel and provoke an argument which would wind the girl up further.

"Nuh-uh." Rachel shook her head vigorously sending her long braids flying. "We don't nap now. We too busy!"

"We're not too busy, Rachel. We're going to nap." Shelby tried to reach her arms around the girl, but Rachel quickly scooted backwards.

"No!"

There was that word again. The one that Shelby was sure would send her off the edge one of these days.

"_Please_, Rach?" she tried pathetically.

Rachel moved further away, sitting up on her knees and scowling at Shelby. "Thanks for polite but no."

Shelby sighed. Her body was already caving into the bed and she wanted nothing in the world more in this moment than to just curl herself up in the covers. But the stern look on Rachel's face told her she wasn't going to win this battle.

"Do you want to watch the TV for a bit while Mommy takes a nap?"

She _hated_ doing that, pawning her daughter off on the television while she wasn't around to supervise. Rachel was getting older, the images on the TV confusing her more now than ever.

"TV has somefing to show me?" she asked, breaking the scowl for a second to look curiously over at the box.

"Sure," Shelby replied. She dragged her protesting body from the bed and stood, holding out her hand for Rachel. When the girl clasped it tightly, she led her over to the TV, dragging the chair with them.

She settled Rachel in the seat before walking over and putting the TV on for her. Some obnoxiously bright cartoon filled the screen and her daughter appeared immediately captivated. Relief.

"Wake me if you need anything, or you hear anything. And if not then, then after three shows have played, please," she told her, kneeling down in front of the chair. Rachel nodded but her eyes were fixed intently on the screen. She took the girl's chin into her fingers and forced her to look her in the eyes. "And if the door opens-."

"If Door opens, I hafta go hide in Wardrobe," Rachel recited easily.

Shelby nodded. "That's right, baby. Well done for remembering."

Rachel grinned up at her mother. "I three now, Mommy. I a big girl and I 'member everyfing."

"That's right, big girl," Shelby confirmed. She placed a kiss on Rachel's cheek and stroked her hair again. "I love you."

"Love you too, Mommy."

With that, Shelby stood and headed back to the bed, allowing herself to fall immediately into its welcoming grasp. She would sleep for a while, and then she would start again.

* * *

_**A/N: Thank you so much for the response to this story! I know it might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I'm enjoying writing it and it's a fantastic essay procrastination tool. 'Regrettably' will have an update by the end of the weekend- it's about halfway done now, and then I'm onto prewritten stuff. In both stories, I think we're at what they call 'the calm before the storm'. **_

_**As always, I would love to hear your thoughts! **_


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: T/W- this chapter contains some description of violence and sexual assault._**

_Bang._

A crash then a soft whimper.

Shelby's eyes flew open and she immediately sat up in bed, heart pounding. Her head swung towards the door, expecting to see it shutting behind _him. _But it was still completely closed. She frowned and clambered out from under the covers to search for the source of the noise.

The TV was still blaring, but the chair in front of it was now lying on its side. _Shit_, she thought. She'd been in such a hurry to get Rachel occupied and go to sleep that she'd completely forgotten about the stupid hole in the stupid chair.

"Rachel?" she cried, panic evident in her voice.

A few small sobs came from the foot of the bed and Shelby ran towards them. It only took two steps before she was kneeling down in front of the small girl who was crouched into a ball, practically hiding under the bed frame.

Shelby reached out and pulled her into her chest. "Baby, what happened?" she asked, checking her daughter over for injuries. She put her finger under Rachel's quivering chin so that she could scan her face and head.

"I fell," Rachel sniffled. Her large brown eyes were brimming with tears which spilled down her cheeks and onto the top of her sweater.

How could she have left Rachel unattended? And for what, some _sleep_? Shelby pulled Rachel in close again. She helped to rest the girl's head in the crook of her neck and began to trace soothing patterns up and down her back. With every tear that splashed down onto her collar bone, she felt a surge of guilt build up inside her.

"You're okay," she whispered into Rachel's ear. "It's okay, baby. Mommy has you." She waited for a few minutes until the sobbing began to die down, and then pulled Rachel back a little by the shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

Rachel's lip stopped trembling as she frowned, considering her mother's question. "No," she eventually decided. "I not hurt."

"Thank God," Shelby muttered, grateful both for her daughter's lack of serious injury and the ceasing of her sobs. She pulled the sleeve of her shirt over the heel of her palm and used the fabric to dry Rachel's face off. "What happened?"

Rachel glanced towards the TV and the fallen chair, and then back at her mother with wide eyes. Shelby knew that face. That was the face that meant Rachel was trying to come up with a lie to avoid being in trouble. Not that being in trouble ever really lasted long for the little girl; it was, after all, hard to stay mad at someone in such an enclosed space. But to Rachel, her mother's quick scoldings probably felt like life or death.

"Rachel?" Shelby prompted warningly. She did her best to look stern, but her face was still puffy with sleep and her eyes bleary.

"I fell," Rachel said again. This time her voice was quiet and timid.

"How?" Shelby asked. When Rachel just shrugged, eyes fixed on a stain on her trousers, she tried again. "Rachel, how did you fall?"

"Jumped off Chair," Rachel mumbled, still refusing to meet her mother's awaiting eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't hear that," Shelby lied, tapping on the little girl's leg to get her attention. "Can you please tell me properly how you fell off the chair?"

Rachel sighed dramatically, realising she had been caught. "I watching TV and it played loud music so I dance."

"Right, you were dancing to the music on the TV. And then what happened, Rach?"

"I go _boing_ off Chair but it fell and I fell," Rachel said, waving her hands around to try to show her mother exactly what happened.

"You climbed up on the chair?" Shelby asked, eyes wide with alarm. She didn't even let Rachel _sit_ on the chair, let alone climb around on it. She cursed herself once more for taking that nap.

Rachel just nodded slowly. "You mad?"

Shelby could see the tears threatening to spill over once more and the sheer trepidation carved out in Rachel's little features. She _was_ mad, yes. But not at Rachel, never really at Rachel. This time, she was just angry at herself. Still, she had to drive the point home to the girl to stop her doing it again.

"A bit," she said, before quickly pulling Rachel into a hug so that she wouldn't start to cry again. "But I'm just glad that you're not hurt, baby." Rachel sniffed into her chest, and she tightened her grip on her little body. "But let's not climb on the furniture anymore, okay, Rach?"

"'Kay, Mommy."

"Okay," Shelby repeated. She stood, pulling the girl up with her and settling her back on her feet. "Now what do you say to Mommy?" Rachel stuck her bottom lip out and stared at the ground. "Rach?"

"I sorry," she finally muttered.

"Good girl," Shelby told her, leaning down and planting a kiss on her head. She held out her hand, which Rachel quickly took, and walked over towards the chair. "See this?" She picked the seat up and pointed out the hole where the missing slat once lay. "This could be really dangerous, Rach."

"Danedrous?" Rachel questioned.

"Yeah, dangerous," Shelby said. She crouched down so that she was on eye-level with Rachel. "The chair broke when you were _really_ little so you don't remember what it was like before. But now it has this hole in, see? So you can't climb up on it."

Rachel nodded slowly. "No climbin'."

Shelby gave a small smile. "That's right."

Rachel turned to face the chair, laying a small hand on the top of it. "I no climb on you no more," she told the chair regretfully. "'Cause you might be danedrous and make me go whoosh on the floor and hurt." She looked back at Shelby. "Right, Mommy?"

"Mhm," she confirmed.

Suddenly, her attention was caught by the TV as music began to blare out from the tinny speakers. She groaned when she saw that her little three-year-old had been watching old reruns of some singing competition show.

"TV show me lotta songs, Mommy," Rachel told her happily.

"Did it?" Shelby muttered. She moved towards the box to turn it off, but unexpectedly became rather transfixed by the girl onscreen.

She must have been in her early twenties, with long, dark hair and a broad smile. She introduced herself casually, making little quips about how _boring_ and _terrible_ her life was right now working at a fast-food restaurant, eliciting laughs from the studio audience and the pearly-toothed judges. Then she began to talk about her big dreams of stardom, of selling out arenas and performing to thousands of adoring fans. She started to sing a ballad that Shelby didn't recognise, but that was clearly a crowd-pleaser. The audience applauded after only the first few notes and then began to sway their arms in time with the steady beat.

Shelby felt a pain rising in her chest and a lump forming in the back of her throat. That was supposed to be _her_. She was the one who had the ambitions that were too big for her small-town life and the voice that was going to fill stadiums one day. The crowds were going to scream _her_ name and sway along with _her_ as she sang. And now she was watching somebody else, someone with far less talent than her, living out that dream on a crappy little TV in the room where she had been stuck for four fucking years.

"Mommy?" Rachel called, tugging on the bottom of her shirt.

Shelby quickly wiped her tears away and turned to face her daughter. "Yeah, babe?"

"You 'kay?"

She forced a small smile onto her lips. "Yeah, just watching the lady sing."

Rachel looked at the TV with her head cocked and her eyes narrowed. "She '_kay_," she said, wrinkling her nose a little. "But she not good as you."

Shelby had to chuckle a little at that. Her daughter, it seemed, was just as harsh a critic as her. "Thanks, Rach."

Deciding that she wanted to see how the rest of this girl's audition played out, she picked the little girl up and carried her up onto the bed. Rachel quickly curled up into her side, her head resting against Shelby's chest.

"I gonna do that," she whispered, her voice muffled against her thumb which had, once again, lurked into her mouth.

Shelby tore her eyes away from the girl onscreen, who was now belting into the microphone without a care in the world, and frowned down at her daughter in confusion. "Do what?"

"Sing onna big stage," Rachel said, smiling around her thumb. "I gonna go _zoom_ into TV land and sing sing sing and all TV people gonna clap me."

"Clap _for_ you," Shelby corrected absent-mindedly, puzzling over the rest of what Rachel had said. "You're going to go into the TV?"

Rachel looked up at her, nodding eagerly. "When I big, I go in TV and sing."

She said it as if it was obvious, as if there was nothing untoward about her words or her fruitless ambitions. Shelby just stared down at her for a moment, then:

"Thumb, Rach."

She didn't know what to do. She'd tried to explain things to Rachel in different ways, but the little girl could never really remember her mother's story from one day to the next. She had, however, clearly come up with her own scenarios in her head. Shelby didn't have a clue whether she was supposed to correct the girl or just let her keep living in a blissful oblivion. God knows Shelby wished she could do just that.

But where would that get her? In the end- and there _had_ to be an end at some point- she needed Rachel to be okay, to be able to keep on going.

"You know, Rach," she said, closely watching her daughter's face to gauge her reaction, "I used to sing like that."

Rachel frowned and looked between the flickering screen and her mother. "You on TV?"

Shelby swallowed. Maybe this was going to be harder than she anticipated. "Nope. I used to sing on a stage, with all of my friends sometimes, but it wasn't on TV."

"Where?" Rachel asked, face still knotted up in curiosity. She swung her head around, as if looking into every crevice of the small room to see where a stage could possibly be hiding.

"Not in here, Rach," Shelby told her slowly. "It was when I was at school."

"School? That on TV," Rachel said, pointing at the box to prove her point.

"Yeah, they show schools on the TV, but I went to a real one. Not on the TV."

"_Where_?" Rachel whined again. She crawled up on her knees and looked around again. "There no school!"

Shelby let out a frustrated sigh and placed her hands firmly on Rachel's shoulders, ceasing the girl's wild movements. "The school's not in here, Rachel. I went to school before I… before I came here."

"Before?" Rachel asked curiously.

"Yeah, before." Shelby watched as Rachel's face contorted through a series of emotions as her little brain tried to understand her mother's words. Confusion, disbelief, and finally anger.

"No before!" she shouted, shaking her head and scowling deeply.

"There was a before, Rachel," Shelby said. Her tone was desperate now, she _needed _Rachel to get it. Not just for the girl's sake, but for hers too. "When I was a little girl like you, right up until I was seventeen, I went to school out in the world."

"What world?" Rachel asked crossly.

"The world, Rach! The _real_ world." Shelby glanced back at the TV, where the girl had finished singing and was now accepting praise from the judges. "Look," she said, using her hands to guide the girl's gaze back towards the screen, "those people, they're _real_ people, just like you and me. And I used to be out there too."

Rachel stared for a second before looking back at Shelby. "They real?"

Shelby nodded quickly. "Yep, they're completely real. Just like you and me."

Before the words had finished leaving Shelby's mouth, Rachel was crawling across the bed. She hopped down, caught her balance, and scurried over to the screen where she looked intently at the figures displayed there. Then she lifted her little fingers and traced them over the screen, lightly at first, before she began to bang hard against the glass.

"Rach, no," Shelby called, jumping from the bed herself and hurrying towards the girl, who by this point was hitting the top of the TV.

"They not real!" Rachel shouted. "They no see me!"

Shelby caught her daughter around her middle and pulled her back before she could do any damage to either the machine or herself. She couldn't face trying to deal with that right now. Maybe this had been too much too soon; the last thing she wanted was for Rachel to get herself worked up. Not now. She had to be in asleep soon before _he_ came.

"Rachel, honey, stop," she whispered into the girl's dark hair. "Calm down."

"You lie!" Rachel said, and Shelby felt another wave of guilt as she heard her the sob's choking her daughter's voice. "They not real."

"They are, honey," Shelby told her again, though her tone was a lot softer now. "It's just… They're just like pictures of real people. Kind of like the pictures in your storybooks."

Rachel sniffled and buried her face into her mother's chest. "No they not."

Shelby shut her eyes tightly and sighed. _It's not her fault_, she told herself firmly. _It's just too much to try to understand._

"Okay, baby," she breathed out, holding Rachel closer. "It's okay."

She picked Rachel up and carried her towards the bed again, placing her down with a kiss on the top of her head.

A while later, once they had eaten the remaining soup from lunch and Shelby had helped Rachel to brush her teeth, the little girl was lying on the bed, waiting for her mother to bring her pyjamas from the wardrobe.

"Up we go," Shelby said, grasping her under the armpits and setting her down on the ground so she could help her change.

"Mommy?" Rachel murmured through a yawn as Shelby pulled off her sweater.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Milk before bed?" Rachel asked.

Shelby looked over her shoulder at the TV. It was muted, but set to the new's station so Shelby could use it to keep a watchful eye on the time. Her nap had messed things up, and they were running behind schedule. _7:49. _It was tight, but they _should _be okay.

She smiled down at her daughter's hopeful face, and pulled her grey pyjama top over her head. "Of course, baby."

When Rachel was dressed, and Shelby had carefully taken out her braids- the girl could never sleep with them, claiming they dug into her head- she lay back on the bed and draped her tiring daughter over her chest.

Rachel latched on and shut her eyes, looking serene and angelic. Her mother, however, couldn't stop the feeling of impending doom which sat like a brick in her stomach. She knew she should be used to it by now, and she was to an extent. But it still never got any easier. Waiting, trapped like a spider at the bottom of the bathtub for her inevitable nightly routine. Not for the first time, she wished that someone would turn on the faucet and be done with it.

She felt Rachel detach herself, and glanced down into her daughter's big eyes.

"You okay?" she asked, willing a softness back into her voice.

"Mommy," Rachel said slowly, "you sing?"

It was the very last thing Shelby wanted to do right now, but still, if it was what Rachel wanted, she knew she would do it.

"Sure, baby. What shall I sing?"

Rachel frowned and shook her head. "No. You _sing_?"

"What?" Shelby asked, running a hand over Rachel's hair, softly pushing her back down. She assumed the girl was already drifting off to sleep, that she was getting confused in her tired state, and she was more than happy to push the process along.

"You sing…" Rachel repeated. "Before?"

Although her face was screwed up in concentration and perplexity, Shelby couldn't help but smile a little. Rachel was getting it. She was actually showing some signs of understanding.

"Yeah," Shelby said, nodding. "Yeah, I used to sing all the time before."

"Oh," Rachel whispered. She lowered her head back against her mother's chest and latched on again, but this time her eyes were open, staring into Shelby's, who took this as a sign to keep on talking.

"I used to sing on lots of big stages. All kinds of songs, Rach- and it was so fun. And I-." She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath to prevent herself from getting too emotional. She tried to never let herself think much about her life before; it just hurt too much. But she _had_ to make Rachel see. This was her chance. "And I used to sing with some of my friends from school."

Rachel looked thoughtful for a moment. Her mother could only hope that she was truly understanding. She moved her mouth away from Shelby's nipple and whispered, "I want friends."

Shelby groaned in both frustration and sadness, but she slipped a small smile back on her face for Rachel's sake. "I'm your friend, baby. And Lamb's your friend," she said, tapping on the small stuffed toy which was tucked in its usual spot under Rachel's arm.

Rachel looked down at the toy and then towards the door. "And Jake's our friend."

Shelby froze, stiffening under her daughter. She wasn't quite sure where Rachel's name for _him_ came from but, no matter how hard she tried, she could never understand her reasoning behind it nor get her to stop using it. She hated it, hated the fact that Rachel even _knew_ that he existed. She certainly didn't want the girl to be considering that sick bastard a _friend_.

"No," she said quickly, firmly. She cupped Rachel's face, forcing her to meet her eyes. "He is not our friend, Rachel."

Rachel's eyebrows deepened into a scowl and she jetted her bottom lip out. "But he bring us lotsa things and he comes see us."

"No, Rachel," Shelby said seriously. Somewhat involuntarily, she tightened her grip on Rachel's chin. "He is _not_ our friend."

"But-"

"_No_." Shelby ignored the daggers being shot her way by the tiny girl and shook her head. "He doesn't do those things because he's our friend. Do you understand?"

Rachel's pout increased, but she eventually gave a small nod. "Yes, Mommy."

Shelby exhaled deeply. "Good girl," she whispered as Rachel latched on to the other breast. Stroking the girl's head as she suckled, she kicked herself for being so harsh. But it was necessary. There was absolutely _no_ way she could have Rachel thinking that.

They lay in silence for just a couple of minutes before Rachel pulled away once more.

"Mommy?"

"Mm?"

"You all empty."

Shelby frowned, and looked down at her chest as if she would somehow be able to verify this fact. Rachel hadn't fed for nearly as long as she did sometimes and had only nursed a couple of times earlier in the day. There was no way that she shouldn't be able to get anymore milk. But, of course, she didn't want to worry the girl, so she smiled gently and wiped some of the dribbles of milk from Rachel's chin.

"That means it's bedtime, then," she said brightly.

Rachel nodded with a yawn and Shelby sent up a silent thank-you to a God she was sure had abandoned her years ago that the girl wasn't putting up a fight tonight. She grabbed a pillow and Rachel's blanket from the bed and, holding the girl's hand, led her to the wardrobe.

Rachel dutifully climbed inside, snuggling down on the pile of old clothes that lay on the wooden base, as Shelby crouched down to place the pillow under her head and the blanket over her.

"Goodnight, my sweet girl," she whispered while Rachel wriggled into a comfortable position. She placed a kiss on the girl's soft cheek. "I love you, baby."

"Love you, Mommy," the girl murmured back, voice muffled by the blanket pulled up to her chin.

Shelby smiled sadly, standing back up and shutting the wardrobe door. It wasn't much, wasn't _nearly_ enough, but at least Rachel was safer in there than would be out in the room. Than Shelby was out in the room.

She quietly cleaned off the mug and the bowl from dinner, leaving them to dry in the empty sink, and checked on the laundry they had done earlier.

After busying herself as much as she could, there was nothing to do but wait. She sat on the edge of the bed, listening to Rachel's soft snores trickling out from the wardrobe and the anxious pounds of her heart.

Eventually, with a flood of nerves through her body, she heard the familiar beeping of the keypad on the other side of the door and the banging as it swung open. She glanced back at the wardrobe and hoped, like she did every night, that Rachel would stay asleep. Or, if nothing else, stay safe behind the wooden doors.

"Hi," she said softly, looking up the man who had just entered. She had, after Rachel was born, taken to playing nice with him. As much as possible, anyway. She had learned that nothing good ever came from antagonising him and any small satisfaction she had gained from such acts disappeared once she realised that there was a tiny baby who needed her. Needed her to not be so badly hurt that she couldn't take care of her.

Last night she had made a mistake. She had dared to utter the word no, and found herself well and truly punished for it. She wouldn't be so stupid tonight, especially not when she had things she desperately needed to ask for.

She received a simple grunt of acknowledgment in reply, as the man slung his duffle bag down onto the floor and lifted his coat off. It must be cold out, Shelby realised. She wouldn't know, the temperature in the room never changed, unless she _really_ got him angry. Then, she would find herself without power or water. He had done that for almost three days once in her first few weeks there. Shelby had eventually been so thirsty, so weak and close to death that she hadn't complained or offered any resistance when he had forced her to drink his urine.

"How are you?" she asked, choking on the words as they came out.

He shrugged, walking over to the chair and settling himself down in it with a deep exhale. His dark hair was long at the moment, shrouding his eyes in a greasy mask, and he looked as if he hadn't shaved for weeks. As he passed her, Shelby caught the unmistakable stench of stale beer and gagged a little, both at the smell and what that would mean for her.

"Been better," he told her, stretching out and cracking his bones loudly. "I've been pounding the pavement all day."

"_What_?" Shelby cried. It came out harsher than she might have intended, but she couldn't stop herself. "You don't have a job right now?"

He just glared at her, nostrils flaring. "You don't have to be a bitch about it."

"I-" She bit down hard on her lip. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

The man scoffed angrily. "Right. Yeah, it's been a few months now." He turned to her with an accusing look. "And you… you just have no fucking idea what it's like out there these days."

"I know, I'm sorry," Shelby said automatically. She stared down at her bare feet and breathed steadily. She could do this. She _had _to do this. "It must be really hard."

"It is," he said with a nod. "And it's not exactly cheap to keep you and the brat alive."

"I know, I'm sorry."

He just stared at her, sneering, before shaking his head roughly. "I'll find something soon." When she didn't look up, he clicked his tongue at her. "Hey- don't you worry your pretty little head, Shelby Corcoran. I always look after you, don't I?"

Shelby forced her eyes to meet his. "Yes. You do. Thank you."

He smiled, bearing his yellowing teeth. "I can think of ways you can thank me." Shelby tried not to shudder. She could do this. "And you'll be thanking me good once you see what I got you."

He pointed over at the bag, and Shelby jumped up, hurrying towards it. She knelt and opened up the zipper. There were a couple of tins of soup, some disgusting canned meats which she always had to fight Rachel particularly hard over, another box of cereal, and a bar of soap.

"That's _it_?" she muttered, staring down at the meagre supply of goods.

"_What_?" he shouted, striding towards her.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I just…"

"Just _what_?" he snarled, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her up onto her feet. She cowered away from him as much as she could, pain already searing through her head.

She hated the fact that she never grew any taller than she had been at seventeen. Whether it was always going to be like that, or whether malnutrition had stopped nature in its tracks, she wasn't sure. But she despised that he had a good foot on her.

"Just _what_?" he repeated, shaking her roughly by the head.

"N-nothing," she whispered.

"No- you said something, bitch. Tell me!"

Shelby sniffed hard and finally looked up at him. "I- I just… Ra- _She's_ getting older now. And bigger and she needs to eat more and I…"

"You what?" he said, tightening his grip on her hair until she was forced to look at his face.

"I- I- can't feed her properly if I don't eat," she said. It was the conclusion she had, somewhat reluctantly, been forced to come to. It had happened a few times in the past; she wasn't eating enough and so her supply of milk began to dry up.

He frowned and scrunched his nose up. "What?"

"I don't make enough milk to feed her if I don't eat enough," she said quietly, hating the heat she could feel rising on her face. It was bad enough to admit to herself that she was failing as a mother, let alone repeat it aloud for _him_ to hear.

He looked utterly disgusted and looked down at her chest. "You _still_ do that?"

"Yes," she muttered, caving her back inwards, futilely trying to hide her body away from his leering eyes.

After a second, he smirked. "I didn't know that." He relinquished his grip on her and threw her body towards the bed. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Shelby said as she recovered her balance and sat back on top of the covers. "I appreciate it."

He grunted. "Yeah, well it doesn't come for free."

_'I know_.' Shelby said silently.

He began to lift his shirt over his head, exposing his hairy chest, and quickly pulled the zipper on his jeans down. "Well don't just sit there and watch!" he snapped.

Swallowing a sob, Shelby quickly undressed herself, discarding her clothes on the floor next to the bed, and wrapping her arms protectively around her thin, naked frame.

He was completely naked too now, and walked towards her slowly, drinking in her appearance. "You're so beautiful, Shelby Corcoran," he told her.

Shelby shut her eyes for a moment, preparing herself. She knew how things went from here; the song and dance he insisted they both perform in from time to time. Seemingly, it was whenever he wanted to make her feel even worse than usual.

"Thank you," she muttered, not moving from her closed off position.

He leant down and moved the hair away from the side of her neck before kissing it roughly. The patch of now wet skin seemed to burn as if he'd poured acid onto the spot.

"You've been beautiful since you were fifteen, Shelby Corcoran," he said, pulling her body backwards on the bed. "And I've loved you since the first time I saw you."

"Thank you."

One hand began to run all over her body, while the other started to pump at his penis. Shelby just stared ahead at the ceiling, willing for it to be over.

"And I'm the only person that loves you. Nobody ever came looking for you, did they?" The ceiling danced with their shadows as he lowered himself on top of her. "Not your parents, not your sister, definitely not your boyfriend."

Tears were leaking out of the corners of her eyes now. She wished she could just go deaf, to not have to listen to any of the words travelling on his rancid breath towards her.

"He didn't love you, Shelby Corcoran. Not like I love you."

"I know," she whispered. A part of her had to believe that it was true. Nobody had ever come looking for her.

"And I had to do this so that we could be together," he continued. "And now you're all mine."

"I know."

He paused for a second, his hand pressing against her thigh. "Say it."

"I'm all yours," she muttered, forcing herself not to cry out.

His nails dug into her skin. "Say it like you mean it, bitch."

"I'm all yours," she repeated, slightly louder.

He smiled widely, pumping himself more vigorously now. "Good girl."

It was only a couple of minutes until he entered her, filling her with the usual blazing pain of being torn apart from the inside out. He placed one hand around her throat, pinning her down and stifling her choking sobs. Then, with a maniacal glint in his cold eyes, he placed his other hand down on the bed for balance and lowered his body down towards her.

"I want to get a taste of you like the brat does," he whispered as he nuzzled his face into her breasts.

Her heartbeat quickened at the feeling of his coarse stubble against her. She tried to push him off, but his large frame pinning her down meant her feeble attempts were completely useless. He pulled her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue roughly over it and began to suck. At the feeling of the milk leaving her, a feeling she associated with nourishing her daughter, a scream erupted from her throat.

"No!" she shrieked, trying desperately to pull away from him. Her hand finally jerked free from under his chest and she flailed it wildly at him, hitting him square in the forehead.

He snarled against her. "You're going to regret that, bitch," he hissed. His hand clenched around her neck and she felt herself gasping for air. Sliding roughly in and out of her, he bit down hard on her nipple. She tried to scream, but it came out as a pathetic gasp beneath his tight chokehold. She had to do something, and quickly. But there was absolutely nothing she _could_ do.

He bit again. And again. Shelby was sure she could feel hot blood trickling out of her from both her breast and vagina as he continued his ministrations with a violent fervour. This was it. She was going to die, she was sure of it.

And then suddenly, the sound of a small voice, caused him to jerk away from her completely.

"Mommy?"

Shelby sucked in lungfuls of air and immediately sat up, using his momentary distraction to push him off her, sending him tumbling off the bed with a grunt of pain. Moving with some kind of superhuman speed, she grabbed the closest article of clothing she could find- his large plaid shirt- and wrapped it around her throbbing body. She clambered off the bed and ran to her daughter's side, who was rubbing her eyes sleepily, leaning against the wardrobe door.

"Rachel!" she cried, pulling the girl into her as she felt her begin to whimper.

"Mommy," Rachel sniffled again. "What happening?"

Shelby tightened her hold on Rachel with one arm, and pulled the wardrobe door back open with her free hand. She had to get Rachel back in there before he came back for her. His daze would surely only last a moment.

"Rachel, baby," she said quickly into the girl's hair. "Mommy needs you to go back in and try to go to sleep again, okay?"

"But you scream, Mommy," Rachel whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Shelby bit her lip. Her body was still searing with pain, her throat was dry and more sore than she had ever felt, and now she could only add this emotional torment. "We were playing a game," she told her daughter. "Sorry for scaring you."

"But you hurt," Rachel cried, pointing to the blood running down her mother's chest and upper legs. "And you said he not a friend. Only friends play games."

"Rachel, stop!" Shelby growled. "Go back in there. Now!"

"No!" Rachel whined, stomping her bare foot hard on the floor. She was getting more and more worked up. "Somefing going on!"

"Rachel! _Please_."

"Leave her alone, Shelby. Maybe she wants to join in."

The first word had barely left his mouth before Shelby had spun round, throwing her arms out protectively in front of Rachel, who buried herself into her back.

"Don't look at her!" she shouted.

The man laughed, but his eyes were narrowed and threatening. "Why not? She is mine after all."

He took a few steps forward and Shelby pushed Rachel back into the wardrobe, hearing a muffled cry as she swung the door shut.

"No she's not," she said coldly. He lunged for her again and she immediately brought her hands up to protect herself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"You will be," he snarled, wrenching her back to her feet by her hair once more.

He pulled her back towards the bed and slapped her down beneath him, ripping his shirt back off her. Just as he was entering her once more, the sound of a constant but frenzied wheezing came from the wardrobe.

Shelby's eyes widened. She knew what that sound meant- it was the sound of her baby struggling to breathe.

"Please," she said desperately, looking deep into his eyes. "Please I need to help her." He glanced back towards the wardrobe door and then down at the woman beneath him. "I- I'll do anything you want tomorrow, I promise. _Anything_. But just please let me help my…" She hated herself for what came next. "_Our_ baby. Please let me save her."

He hesitated for a second, but eventually rolled off her with an angry groan. "You better keep that promise," he told her coldly as he gathered up his clothes and pulled his jeans back on.

"I will," Shelby said, nodding fervently and reaching for her own clothes. Her imploring eyes never left his; she had to make him leave so she could get to Rachel. The wheezing was becoming louder and more desperate. "I'll do whatever you want."

"Yeah," he smirked, pulling his coat back on and walking towards the door. "You will, bitch."

It was still swinging shut when Shelby was yanked open the wardrobe door. She swiftly gathered up her sobbing daughter into her arms and reached for the inhaler on the top shelf.

"It's okay, baby," she soothed quickly, hurrying towards the bed. She sat Rachel down as she continued to whisper softly, "It's all going to be okay." She uncapped the inhaler and brought it to the girl's lips, guiding her through the motions with her own deep breaths.

As Rachel's wheezing died down, Shelby pressed her hand against the girl's chest, feeling for her heartbeat which, thankfully, was returning to a normal rhythm. "There we go, baby," she said, "it's all going to be fine."

She let the girl take a couple more puffs before taking the device away and wrapping her tightly in her arms.

"I sorry," Rachel whimpered, leaning her wet face up against her mother's. "I sorry for coming out Wardrobe."

Shelby swallowed and pressed a long kiss onto Rachel's cheek. "It's okay, baby. I promise you it's all going to be okay."

They stayed like that for a long few minutes until she felt Rachel's sobs dying away and the girl growing heavy in her arms. As she placed her sleeping body down on the bed and crawled in next to her, she blinked hard and let the tears flooding her eyes stream down her cheeks.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered again, pulling her daughter in close to her.

_Tomorrow_, she told herself as she shut her eyes, _tomorrow everything's going to change and it's all going to be okay. _

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry, it's heavy I know. I can promise that there will be some kind of light at the end of the tunnel soon. Hope you and enjoyed and - as always - I would love to hear you thoughts. I seriously appreciate all the feedback so much. **_


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